Sometimes you get What you Need
by VoodooLilly
Summary: A little AU interlude during Season 1, my take on 'Sectionals' and how Puck got his mojo back and why getting what you want isn't always the answer. P/R deliciousness!


AN: Yeah, gonna admit that I haven't been feeling the writing lately. Found this on my hard drive and thought, what the hell, I can finish it! Feeling that old spark come back to life at last, woot. So here it is, my take on what should have happened after babygate broke, and how Puck got his mojo back. Because a little Hot Jew lovin' fixes everything!

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned things, but I don't. Le sigh.

* * *

><p><em>Rachel Barbara Berry thy name is Judas.<em>

The simple phrase chased itself in a nasty loop through Rachel's thoughts as she drifted down the empty hallways of William McKinley High School. Granted, she had not _really_ betrayed the supposed Messiah (the conception was a _scandal_, not Immaculate) but seeing the look of utter desolation on Quinn Fabray's flawless face was a close second. Rachel Barbara Berry prided herself on telling the truth, and right now, the truth was killing her.

Guilt and anxiety sent unpleasant ripples through her abdomen, making her nauseous. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle, as if that simple comfort could erase the enormity of her words. Keen sorrow pierced her guilt; she was still alone. She'd been utterly honest telling Quinn her reasons for divulging the truth; she wanted Finn. And Quinn had been equally brutal telling her they were both alone now. Quinn's abrupt dismissal of Rachel had smarted, but what had hurt even worse, made the guilt crawl all over her with sick shivers, was the look on Puck's (_Noah's_) face. She could still see the whole scene so clearly:

He looked so scared, vulnerable, and hopeful all at once as he made to approach Quinn. Rachel couldn't help the sympathy that flooded her heart for the mohawked boy. And the look that passed between them… Rachel couldn't describe it with words if she tried, and her command of the English language was fierce. But it spoke to her though, plain as words.

_Here it goes. Don't hate me, please? Wish me luck._

As Rachel had told the others, she was a little bit psychic, and though she had professed an inability to read minds, she was starting to question it. She'd heard him _so clearly_. So of course she ducked behind the doorway and strained her ears (and her mind, though she felt silly) to overhear what went on between the two of them. She didn't catch much. _Want to be a good dad… no more stress… on my own…I need you to respect that._ She never did catch if Puck (_Noah!_) said anything after Quinn's little declaration of solidarity because Quinn was rounding the corner and Rachel didn't feel like being struck after escaping once already with a reprieve.

Rachel whirled around and pressed herself close to a bank of lockers, pretending some inane activity and trying to think invisible thoughts. She needn't have worried so much. Quinn was so focused on her own thoughts, and on trying to make it from the school without letting the other peons see her cry that Rachel could have been dancing naked in the hallway belting out show tunes and she wouldn't have gotten a second glance. Rachel relaxed when she peeked over her shoulder and saw the Queen Bee rounding a corner.

Puck was still sitting on the bench where Quinn left him. Again. Rachel had no business going back in that direction (her locker was on the opposite side of the school, it had been difficult tracking Quinn down in the first place) but she walked toward him anyway.

Noah was shocked, numb, completely unbelieving of the events that had just transpired in the last two hours. And it was Noah sitting there, not Puck. The raw vulnerability that Rachel could so clearly see in his face was unnerving. The 'badass' Puck would never let the world at large see the metaphorical gaping wound in his chest, would never let them see the death of his daydreams burning to ash under the harsh buzz of cheap florescent lights. Rachel saw all of it, and needed no psychic powers or arcane intuition to know that Noah was heartbroken. She felt even guiltier. She was not the only person to carry seeds of hope for the demise of Quinn and Finn and have them dashed to bits.

Rachel was nearly within touching distance; the half formed notion to place her hand on his shoulder and offer what meager comfort she could died an abrupt death and glued her ballet flats to the spot. Noah had sat unmoving, processing, while Rachel approached. Puck's eyes lit with green balefire as he finally saw her. Abruptly he stood, towering over her; Rachel had never felt more keenly her diminutive stature. His fists clenched at his side and his breathing was harsh. For an agonizing moment Rachel thought he would strike her, as Quinn had refused to do. It was his base nature after all. She closed her eyes, held her breath, preparing for it, much as she had prepared for one of his slushie facials. How badly could a fist hurt in comparison to freezing shards of ice?

No blow ever came. Needing oxygen, she slowly released her held breath, easing her eyelids open just a hair, peeking. Puck was gone. Rachel was alone in the empty hall; she never had heard the bell ring signaling the start of last period. Rachel Barbara Berry had never skipped a class in her life. There was a first time for everything she supposed.

It wasn't until some time later (she wasn't sure how long, she'd hid out in the girls lavatory by the gymnasium to avoid any teachers, then sat on the bleachers for a while before drifting back in after last bell dismissed the students for the day and they came boiling out of the school like rats from a sinking ship) that Rachel found herself standing in front of Noah Puckerman's locker just outside the chem lab. Why was she there? She really had no articulate explanation for it other than… no; she just really had no idea why she was hovering there, waiting.

Obviously he wasn't coming back to it any time soon. Rachel hypothesized that Puck had simply stormed off from their abortive non-conversation and either pummeled some hapless freshman into hamburger or found a willing cougar to service. Either scenario seemed the ideal one for the angry teen to burn of his hostilities, especially since the object of his anger (herself) escaped unscathed, relatively speaking.

So why was she still waiting? Rachel heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned against his locker, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. She didn't want to leave because something told her to stay, and anything she did to ignore it (like post a maudlin MySpace video) would not help alleviate the guilt eating away at her. Being psychic sucked, to use the vernacular.

Hard fingers crushing her upper arm in a painful grip snapped Rachel's eyes wide open, stopping her heart in her throat before it resumed a ragged pace. Green eyes glowed in the dark scowl marring the statuesque perfection of Noah Samuel Puckerman's face. If she wasn't scared out of her wits by his stealthy arrival she'd be tempted to trace the lush curve of his bottom lip, see if he'd grace her with a rare smile (not a smirk, God she hated those smirks! Even as they set her blood on fire…) but now didn't seem like the opportune time. He raked her with his eyes, contempt and frustration radiating off of him in waves, when she heard, again, plain as words:

_What the fuck do you want now? Haven't you seen enough?_

Move over Madame Cleo. Rachel had the irrational urge to start laughing hysterically (because screaming was out, wasn't it?) and spent precious moments choking it back. Laughing at this particular moment would be beyond 'not good'. The thought sobered her, made her look deeper into the green eyes glaring down at her. What she saw caught her breath, and crystallized into her purpose for being here. Rachel Barbara Berry may not be able to read the minds of everyone, but maybe, just maybe, she could hear whispers from the boy in front of her.

Taking a steadying breath, Rachel slowly, oh so slowly slipped a small hand over to his larger one where it gripped her arm, threading slim fingers between his. Dark brows drew down, a question flickering across his face before resolving into anger again. Keeping her dark eyes on his she gently squeezed his hand, moistened dry lips with the tip of her tongue (she watched his eyes trace the path it swept over her mouth, saw the dilation of his pupils) before she deliberately lowered her lashes and tilted her head to the side. The motion caused her long hair to spill back, baring the line of her throat (and the spot that he had adored, right where her neck met the curve of her jaw) and offered it to him. It was submissive, primitively so, and doing it went against all of the feminist values she prided herself on. It made her feel more vulnerable and exposed before him than if she were naked, because at least then she'd be meeting him as an equal, eye to eye. Not like this.

"Noah…" was that breathy sigh really his name? Had she really uttered it with such pleading and remorse, with hints of arousal and guilt making it husky? She had (a small part of her was jumping up and down with glee, storing the memory away to be used in her future Tony winning performance). Rachel wanted more than anything to look at him, see the emotions flickering across his eyes, but she knew it would ruin the tenuous moment (after all he thought she saw too much). Instead she waited, hoping furiously that she really was psychic and not just crazy.

Puck jerked her forward so fast she tripped over her own feet. He didn't even pause, just used sheer force to propel her forward. She vaguely registered him shouldering open the chemistry lab door, took brief note that the lab was empty. The Bunsen burners and metal tripods looked eerie lined up on the black counter tops with only dim afternoon sunlight to illuminate them. Rachel grunted softly (such a very unbecoming sound to come from someone as musically apt as she, really!) when her back met the wall next to the chalk board. He hadn't hurt her, not yet, even though the fear of it lurked in her thoughts. He had every right to be angry, and like she offered Quinn, Puck deserved his pound of flesh. She only hopes she was right in how he'll claim it. Puck's hands slapped onto the wall, bracketing her head. She could feel the heat from his body, the soft pants of his breath on her temple. Rachel took a moment to clear any trace of fear (or pity and resignation) from her eyes and met his glare head on.

He was angry, Rachel could see that clearly, but underneath it lurked a question. She knew the answer, knew that if she was to change her mind, right now, he'd walk away in a heartbeat. Rachel also knew that if she changed her mind, if she let him walk away as is, he'd be broken beyond repair. Puck may alarm her, infuriate her, drive her to the edge of all rationality and into 'crazy bee-otch mode' (verbatim) but she cared deeply for Noah. So Rachel did the only thing she could do; she licked her lower lip again and nodded her head infinitesimally.

The results were instantaneous.

Soft (impossibly soft) lips crashed down on hers, marauding the lushness of her mouth. He wasn't gentle about it; he didn't follow her lead or try to coax her into going deeper like he did when they were dating. He took what he wanted and drug her along for the ride. Puck bit her bottom lip, made Rachel gasp. It gave him the opening he needed to sweep his tongue into her mouth, duel with her own and steal the very breath from her already straining lungs. Rachel had to tear her mouth away from his, take great gasping breaths to clear the dimness from her vision. A ghost of a smirk curled the mouth she so admired before claiming hers again for more searing kisses. Rachel didn't think it was possible to come from kissing alone, but then again, she knew it wasn't wise to underestimate Noah Samuel Puckerman. Or give him an inch of slack, because he'd take a mile before one even noticed.

For example: the demure and oh so fetching (in her opinion, Kurt and his snarky criticism just showed how jealous he was of her) argyle cardigan that Rachel had donned this morning. It _had_ been buttoned up smartly from neck to hem and now gaped wide open at her sides, leaving her chest covered only by a modest white cotton bra. Rachel briefly wondered where her psychic powers were as she was getting dressed. If she'd known then that she'd be half undressed in Puck's arms after school, she'd have picked something prettier. Not for him, he'd probably seen enough bras to no longer be impressed, but for her own sake. After all, he was the first boy to see her 'boobs'. And quite possibly the last for a very long time. With the whole Babygate scandal erupting all over the school, Rachel Barbara Berry's stock was at an all time low. Never popular to begin with, she was now branded a 'trout mouth' and the regard of the one boy she truly wanted (Finn, tall, sweet, goofy Finn) was not likely to fall on her, well, ever.

_So. Fucking. Gorgeous._

Rachel was pulled out of her morose thoughts and back to the situation at hand by the snippet of thought that wasn't hers. Puck was staring at her exposed chest, forehead pressed against hers, lips parted and damp from their kisses, utterly entranced by her breasts. One hand still braced him against the wall, while the other (oh god!) slipped underneath the cup of her bra and reverently clasped the soft weight. His palm was incredibly rough against her bare skin. She startled at first, her whole body tensing, but he just kept his hand there, immobile, and Rachel relaxed, taking a deep breath. She barely caught the predatory smile, the darkening of his green eyes before gasping helplessly under his hands as a riot of sensation burst under her skin.

Puck had pinched the soft peak of her breast to a point, pulling and tugging to make the nipple hard as stone. He'd trailed his mouth down to the spot on her neck that he so loved and bit down (too) gently, staking claim. His free hand was wound in the locks of hair at the base of her neck, holding her _just so _while his hips ground against her belly. Rachel was drowning in sensory input, a bit overwhelmed. A small hand clutched the base of his neck, fingers threaded into the short hairs of his ridiculous (sexy) Mohawk, while the other gripped the wrist of the hand stroking her breast. But it was the feel of a hard ridge of flesh grinding against her pubis, right where she burned the worst through thin layers of cotton that made Rachel Berry lose it.

She dragged his mouth back up to hers, lips and tongue dueling with his. She crushed his fingers around her breast with all the strength in her small hand, choking out a moan when he pinched her nipple a little too hard in excitement. She didn't mind. Rachel hiked a slim thigh over his hip, pressing him to her with calf and heel, straining up off the wall where he had her pinned in order to feel more of him, to grind against his erection even harder. Rachel was on fire, literally and figuratively and she knew that Noah was the only person likely to quench her. All thoughts of Quinn, the baby, Finn, even the overwhelming desire for stardom fell away, she could only think of the boy in front of her and of the burning pulse between her thighs.

Noah grunted against her mouth, surprised maybe by her lascivious response. He didn't let it throw him off his stride though. He hiked her leg up higher, spreading her further to cradle the narrow width of his hips between her thighs. His mouth mimicked coitus against hers, deft tongue spearing into her over and over even as his hand abandoned her breast to roughly untie her gray wrap skirt and shove it out of the way. The only thing separating the ridge of his erection from the molten heart of her was his rough jeans and the virginal white cotton of her panties. Rachel had a fleeting regret; this was not exactly how she pictured losing her virginity, but it fluttered away when Puck dipped his knees slightly and perfectly aligned their pelvises, grinding against her hard. She had to choke down the little scream that threatened to erupt, the hot burst of pleasure only heightening her arousal, winding her up even tighter.

Rachel thumped her head back against the wall, the slight pain of it helping clear her muddled thoughts a little. They scattered again at the invasion of Noah's fingers into the damp cotton of her panties. She squeaked out a half-formed protest as his fingers slid the length of her most intimate parts, bit her lip hard when he gently teased her open and slipped a long finger inside. Rachel could swear she saw stars dancing in the fringe of her vision, could taste the coppery tang of blood on her lips as his fingers moved over her. Noah smirked against her mouth, swiped the drop of blood from her bitten lip and added a second finger to her tightness. She was going to come all over his hand, could feel the orgasm building, ratcheting up even higher. This was so much better than her fingers could manage. Rachel did scream softly when he added his thumb to the mix, spreading her wetness over the nub of her clit and pressing firmly, while inside, his fingers curled upwards and pressed from within. Her climax broke sharp and fast, embarrassing from its swiftness, and from the copious gush of wetness that drenched his hand. A blush seared her cheeks and she couldn't meet his eyes. Tiny stars still danced in the periphery of her vision, and Rachel was positive her legs wouldn't support her own weight. It didn't matter, not her embarrassment, or muscle weakness. All Rachel could feel was the pounding of her heart, the intensity of his gaze on her face, and the sweet aftershocks of a phenomenal orgasm.

Noah laughed softly, a tender sound compared to the mocking jeer she usually heard, as he removed his hand from her panties, wiping the excess wetness against her inner thigh. Carefully he lowered her leg from his hip, following it down to kneel before her. Rachel was so utterly self-conscious it made her skin crawl. Had she waxed recently? Could he see any cellulite on her thighs? Her hands moved to cover her groin, shield some part of herself from him. He stopped her of course. He gripped her slender wrists in both hands, shaking his head as he looked up at her. Rachel blushed even harder, but nodded assent anyway. Noah laid a soft kiss in each of her palms before pressing them against the wall behind her, the admonishment not to move them clear. Rachel died by inches as he just waited, staring at her exposed body. Even as it made her squirm, it stoked her rising arousal. Finally Puck slid his fingers under the waistband of her panties, dragging them slowly down her thighs, pausing to kiss the cap of her knee, fingernails raking the backs of her calves as he urged her to step free of them. Rachel shivered, watching the look on his face as he removed the garment and tucked it into his back pocket. She should protest, really! Not even that skeevy-perv Jacob Ben-Israel had a real pair of her panties, and he'd been reduced to blackmail. And here she was, just letting Puck take them and stare some more at her near naked body. The world truly made no sense today.

Puck abruptly stood, making Rachel gasp, nervousness dampening her arousal. His hands were on his belt buckle, deftly slipping the leather free before attacking the button fly. His shirts kept interfering with his progress. Grunting, Puck stopped only long enough to shrug out of his button down shirt and strip off the thin gray t shirt underneath. Rachel took a moment to marvel at the perfect architecture of his chest. He was lovely, really and truly. Wide shoulders sculpted down to his much vaunted 'guns'. A broad torso delineated with muscle narrowed down to compact hips, the 'v' cut of muscles framing an adorable navel and a six pack of abdominal muscles that made Rachel salivate a little. The glint of silver in his left nipple was shocking. Noah had a nipple ring. Rachel had to fight the urge to lift her hands from the wall and maul him, take that delicate ring between her teeth and tug until he moaned.

Noah was watching her ogle him. That sexy (irritating!) smirk was firmly in place and he had his jeans open. Rachel gawked some more at the faint trail of hair leading from under his bellybutton to his open fly and had to close her eyes. Rachel had seen pictures of penises before. Her fathers made sure she was well educated and protected when it came to sex, believing firmly that public schools failed miserably when it came to Sex Ed (Celibacy Club, really? Asking teenagers to abstain was like trying to coax wolves to eat carrots instead of bunnies; some would, most couldn't). Rachel knew what the human body looked like, was comfortable with her own anatomy. Seeing the hard length of Noah's penis, the tip red and weeping clear fluid was…arousing, a far cry from the clinical detachment she'd felt looking at those books. Rachel opened her eyes and kept looking at him.

She _should_ be worried. She _should_ change her mind, offer him something else. She _should_ do a lot of things other than stare at his body and speculate what he tasted like.

_Should_ be damned!

This was all about _want_. There was no more guilt, no penance, no regret, nothing but desire and need in Rachel's body. Rachel Barbara Berry _wanted_ Noah Puckerman in the worst of ways.

Rachel always took what she wanted.

Noah's eyes widened with surprise when his back hit the wall Rachel had just been occupying. She was stronger than she looked. His mouth dropped open and his eyes glazed a little when Rachel shrugged out of her unbuttoned cardigan and stripped the bra from her body. She was standing completely naked in front of the school womanizer (on school property! In public!), lips damp and faintly bruised, hair mussed and clearly aroused. Rachel felt like a goddess under the hot burn of his eyes, the earlier embarrassment burned away by need. And right now she was Puck's erotic deity and he would worship her as was her due.

Slowly, so he could guess her trajectory, Rachel reached out and stroked the rippled plane of his belly, lightly running her fingertip around his navel. Noah shuddered under her touch, eyes closing and head thumping against the wall. She could hear the deep breathes he was evenly pumping through his lungs, trying to maintain control. Not today. Control was for his Cheerios, his cougars. Today, with her, control was not an option because everything about today was off kilter, so outside the norm it shouldn't be happening. _This_ shouldn't be happening. But it was, and Rachel was going to revel in it. Damp lips parted, leaned in for the kill, and took the glistening silver ring between and tugged.

Noah moaned, loudly, the sound echoing slightly in the empty room. Hands clenched her hair, holding her close. His breathing became more ragged, control forgotten. Rachel tugged harder, worrying the smooth metal and pebbled flesh between her teeth, dragged her nails lightly down his abdomen. She could feel his skin twitch and shudder under her fingertips. Flicking the silver ring with her tongue, she let her hands glide to the top of his open jeans, skimming around his waist and delving under loose fabric. Of course he was sans undergarments. The idea of him strutting through the halls with no boxers on sent an illicit thrill through Rachel. She had never 'gone commando' herself, too many things could go awry and cause utter humiliation. Flashing one's genitals was tacky; just look at all the prime examples set by Hollywood starlets. Linsday Lohan was not a roll model.

Rachel chuckled softly against Noah's skin, amused by her inner monologue. Her eyes flicked up to Puck's. He was staring down at her as if he'd never seen her before, eyes dark and carnal. His hands tightened slightly in her hair, gently pulling; it made Rachel bite down on his trapped nipple, dig her nails into the firm perfection of his buttocks. Noah hissed out an unintelligible curse, grinding his hips against her. Rachel was shocked by the searing heat of his naked erection against her smooth belly. She removed her hands from his pants and slid down to her knees. More hissed curses. She spared him another glance. Sweat faintly beaded his forehead, his jaw was clenched so tight she could almost hear his teeth grind, his hands gently cradled the back of her head.

_Do it! Please..._

Rachel Barbara Berry felt a harlot's smile curl her mouth before parting her lips and engulfing the crown of Noah Puckerman's penis.

Soft. Hot and soft. Those were the sensations that struck her first. She had no idea the skin covering such blatant hardness could feel so velvety. Heat scorched her lips as she slid her mouth down. Heat flared between her legs listening to the choked curses and groans coming from the boy above her. She could see why women found this pleasurable even with no direct advantage to them. It turned her on to make him so helpless, so willing to submit. She far preferred this vulnerability in him than the naked look she had glimpsed in his eyes as he went to plead with Quinn. She took him in further, sliding him to the back of her throat and deeper still. Ms. P was so right.

_Dead kittens. Dead Mailmen. Naked Coach Tanaka. Naked Coach with a naked Sue Sylvester. Fabray selling MY baby..._

Rachel paused in her ministrations, just the tip of him resting against her wet lips, to look up at him. Noah was a caricature of pleasurable agony. His face was screwed up, eyes and jaw clenched tight, one fist pressing hard against the wall. The other hand was still gently clutching her hair, not guiding, just holding. It took him a minute to realize she had stopped. Emerald eyes looked down at her, confused and pleading.

"Fuck, Rachel..." _Please!_ Had he ever called her Rachel before? (Berry, Freak, Legs, Babe, Gleek, never _Rachel_) She couldn't remember. But hearing it in that gravely bedroom voice of his made her squeeze her thighs together and swallow him down to the root. The sound of his curses and groans increasing in tempo and volume was the most beautiful thing Rachel had ever heard.

He lasted maybe another minute under the brutal onslaught of her mouth before jerking her off his aching erection and hauling her up his body. Puck lifted her feet off the floor, dragging her lips up to his and kissing her fiercely. Rachel wrapped her legs around his slim hips, gasping into his mouth at the feel of his hot shaft sliding perfectly between her thighs and nudging the burning knot of her clit. He hefted her up higher, hands leaving her to support her own weight as he dug through his pockets. He broke their kiss to fumble with the condom, sliding it on with practiced skill. It wasn't strictly necessary. Rachel was on the Pill (it helped her complexion and PMS) but she appreciated his use of one. Rachel did not want to end up like Quinn, or worse. Contrary to popular belief, there were worse things to end up with than a baby. Noah's hands returned to her thighs, sliding up to cup her buttocks. Carefully he lowered her so just the tip of his latex-sheathed erection nudged between her wet labia. He stopped, both of them looking down at where they were almost joined. This was it. Rachel squeezed shut her eyes and braced for impact.

It never came. Rachel suppressed a frustrated whine and opened her eyes to glare at Noah Puckerman. He was grinning at her, that irritating, sexy, obnoxious grin, now, right now! He was about to deflower her for the love of Pete, he shouldn't be grinning! But he was, one eyebrow quirked up, laughter burbling in his eyes. It wasn't malicious, it was... joyful. Playful. Her own mouth quirked up in a smile. Bracing for impact? This was sex, not the apocalypse. They both chuckled softly, sharing an intimate look that Rachel didn't have the will to decipher. Noah kissed her gently at first, but the tension coiling so tightly in both of them didn't keep it that way for long. His hands shifted on her, slid her body until he found her entrance. Rachel broke the kiss, fingers tugging on the short hair of his mohawk to get him to meet her eyes.

Rachel and Noah stared at each other from inches away as he slid into her body.

Oh. Oh! Rachel had to close her eyes, breaking the incredibly intimate look the two of them were sharing. Her head tipped back and she could feel the ends of her hair brush her butt where Noah had a death grip on her hips. It didn't exactly hurt, it felt… (Amazing? Intense?) She didn't know the word for it. Good. Such a bland word, but oh it felt so very _good_. Like the burning stretch of an intense yoga pose. There was no sharp pain, no tearing. Rachel supposed her hymen had torn long ago after so many years of gymnastics, dance and riding lessons. (She wanted a pony, her fathers compromised with riding lessons. No one had told her how disillusioning horses could be.) Every inch shoved inside her burned deliciously, filling her unspeakably full. At last he stopped, hilted in her and waited. Her whole body thrummed; muscles clenched and ready for…more. Wasn't there more? Rachel languidly lifted her head to look at Noah once again.

Pleasurable agony. She'd thought she'd seen that look on his face earlier, her mouth wrapped around him. It paled in comparison to this. Sweat beaded his brow, his upper lip, long muscles in his throat straining. His fingers clenched and flexed on her ass. Rachel could swear she almost felt his pulse throbbing inside her where he was buried to the hilt. Noah had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment. Men weren't beautiful, and she doubted he'd appreciate the sentiment but, god damn he was gorgeous! Rachel couldn't help but smother his mouth with her own, biting down on that lush lower lip and squirming her hips against his. He needed to move, now.

Noah gratefully took the hint, biting her lips in return even as his hands lifted her, almost pulling out, before crashing her hips down and against his own. Rachel cried out into his mouth, stunned at the sensation, caught on the edge of pleasure laced with pain. It continued. Lift, pause, thrust. It was going to drive her insane, the tight coil of something huge winding in her groin and belly. Rachel could feel her muscles burning, sweat rolling and dripping down the channel of her spine, between her breasts. She gripped Noah tighter, straining toward something beautiful. A constant humming moan was escaping from her lips and she had no conscious control over the noises she was making.

Noah was strangely silent.

Rachel half expected a litany of curses to be dropping from his lips, or better still, his lips pressed to her ear murmuring all sorts of filthy things into it. Instead he was strangely intent, brow creased and teeth clenched as he worked her straining body over his. What was he striving for? His hands shifted on her, tilted her pelvis further forward, her breasts thrusting out as her spine arched.

Oh god.

Had she screamed that? No. Just a keening wail as her insides imploded, clenching down hard on his penis inside her, stopping his thrusting and holding impossibly deep. Her body trembled and shook, an orgasm bigger than her previous one washing through her and leaving her spent. It went on interminably, scary and exhilarating all at once in its intensity. Rachel wondered if he could feel it, the sensation so keen and her body so small to hold all of it inside. The excess just had to be washing into him, her cup overfloweth… He did. Noah grunted, fingers buried in her flesh, teeth nipping cruelly against her collar bones as he came. Rachel could feel it throbbing in her, wistfully thought it would feel even better bare skin to bare skin. Too much risk, maybe someday. Today was unexpected in so many ways, best not to jinx it further.

They held each other in the aftermath. Sweaty skin slicked together, breath slowing in tandem as reality sank back in and euphoria ebbed. Noah sank to his knees, leaning back against the wall and cradling Rachel to his chest. She remained wrapped around him, awkwardly wondering what protocol dictated, but so comfortable she was loath to disentangle her flesh from his. So she did nothing but lay her head in the crook of his neck and breathe. His hands wandered up her back, tracing lazy, soothing circles against the small of her back. It wasn't cuddling exactly; she didn't know what it was. Basking in the afterglow maybe? Rachel felt no real need to define it. Surprising, but true.

A gentle tug on her hair brought Rachel back from the brink of sleep. She didn't realize she'd even started nodding off. She lifted her head and met Noah's eyes. He had a softer version of his patented smirk on, gentler and filled with satisfaction. Rachel supposed any male would look so smugly pleased with himself after making his female howl with delight and nearly pass out after. Not that she was _his_ female. Crap. She was not going to overanalyze this, not now, not ever. Rachel could feel her crazy strained smile cracking around the edges of her face.

Noah rolled his eyes and kissed her soundly, grunting as he lifted her off his softening cock. Rachel mewed in protest at the loss of him and blushed. He kissed her again, chuckling. She remained kneeling while Puck stood, efficiently stripping off the condom and tossing it into the trash before refastening his jeans. He stretched, cracking joints and looking more like himself than he had _before_. Rachel started gathering her legs underneath her, not sure if she could stand and desperately trying to regain her composure and not let him see her uncertainty about the next few minutes.

Rachel squeaked as Noah grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet, supporting her gently while she found her equilibrium. Her hands were pressed flat against the smooth contours of his chest and she couldn't help rubbing her cheek against his pecs. His nipple ring glinted in the dimming light, making Rachel tense a little with renewed interest. (She was depraved, that was the only explanation.)

Finally able to stand without assistance, Rachel shivered a little in the cool air of the chem lab. Noah stooped down and grabbed her clothes (not her panties, those were still firmly ensconced in his back pocket, the jerk), handing her an article at a time as she slowly redressed and put herself to rights. She stood finger combing her hair while he grabbed his own discarded shirts and shrugged them back on. (She was not disappointed, absolutely not!) Rachel sighed with resignation, there was no hope for her hair; it was simply going to have to look 'just fucked' until she got home and showered this strange day away.

Noah stood watching her, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes hooded and that damn smirk teasing his lips. She huffed, twisting her hair in a knot at the base of her neck. She crossed her arms over her chest and just…waited, for what she wasn't quite sure. She should say something, she just didn't know what. Ms. Manners had _never_ covered this situation.

His smirk turned into a genuine smile as he shook his head and stepped once again deeply into her personal space. Rough hands tipped her chin gently up and soft lips covered her own, the kiss almost chaste considering all that had transpired. Rachel sighed into his mouth and smoothed her hands down his shirt. Noah eventually broke the soft kiss, gave her a jaunty salute and a lewd wink before sauntering out of the lab. It wasn't until the soft click of the door latching reached her ears that Rachel could bring herself to move. She shook herself, casting off all worries and doubts, her slight pang of irritation at his just leaving and her apprehension at her actions. What's done is done, and it was necessary, a one time thing, for the good of glee. (Liar)

It wasn't until Rachel was sitting in her car that she thought to check her cell phone. She had missed a class after all and stayed at the school far past her usual departure time. She had a single text message.

*Noah Pukerman: Thanks Rach, for being there and shit. 4:15PM

Surprised, Rachel tapped off a quick reply. Smiling, she started her car and drove home, looking forward to a long shower and bed. It wasn't till after her shower that she saw his reply.

*Noah Puckerman: Thanks for the panties too. 8:45 PM


End file.
